(waiting for) a girl like you
by stopthenrewind
Summary: The only thing Jesse wants is for Beca to figure out exactly what she wants. Wherein Beca's on the verge of leaving New York altogether, and Jesse's still maybe, kind of pathetically in love with her, the girl from 41-B who stole his heart and never gave it back. [AU]


**Notes:** I…have no idea where this came from, really. Bear in mind, though, that I haven't written multi-chapter fics (and AUs) in years, so…go easy on me? I'm trying out something new-ish, too, so I hope y'all like this, even a little bit. :P (I am super nervous right now asdalsk)

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"_That's one of the damnedest things I ever found out about human emotions and how treacherous they can be – the fact that you can hate a place with all your heart and soul and still be sick for it. Not to speak of the fact that you can hate a person with all your heart and soul and still long for that person."_

::

Top five things Jesse likes most about Beca, in no particular order:

5. The way she smells. It's a cross between the perfume she always wears, what he thinks is the best-smelling lavender shampoo ever made, and…something else, something that he can't pinpoint. But it's there, lingering in the air whenever she walks by, clinging to her clothes, to her skin, making it so achingly hers.

There's this thing he realizes, about how the distinct scent of that one special person in your life makes them feel like someone you want to come home to every day_._ (Or, you know. Something less embarrassing to say aloud to Benji, who's currently sitting in front of him, waiting patiently for number four.)

4. The random, stupid conversations they would have about literally anything_. _(Really, anything: the best Michael Jackson songs ever written (and the worst), their guilty pleasure music (Ricky Martin for him – what? He likes livin' la vida loca – and Spice Girls for her; she's told him she'll cut his damn balls if he ever tells anyone, so be quiet, Benji…), who died in the latest _The Walking Dead _episode, why Bumper is the biggest dick they've ever known… (Wait, that sounded dirty, Benji needs to forget that he said that.)

It's the stupidest, most random things that make up their conversations, interspersed with sarcastic lines and dry remarks. Jesse always enjoys good ol' verbal sparring with Beca. There are never any dull moments when he's with her… Just, you know. Confusing ones. Painful ones. But yeah no, he's promised Benji he wouldn't go there.)

Bonus: Her wit and her dry humor (the driest humor he's ever known, if he's being honest). Her sarcastic remarks (she has a lot of that) and the way she uses her biting words as walls to hide behind. But Jesse's not afraid of her walls. He faces them head on, because somehow, along the three months he's known her, he's managed to tear a part of them down.

3. The elements of Beca, lurking underneath, that peeks through the cracks if he tries hard enough, if she's willing enough. How she's an inner nerd; how she secretly loves pop music; how she doesn't really hate her dad, not at all; how she's concerned about her mom, living alone back home; how she gets this look in her eyes when he does something silly or stupid to amuse her; how she's willing to do anything for the people she loves, like the friends she practically considers her family.

Beca tries not to let people see, but she does care. A lot.

(He loves a lot of things about her, but this is the side of her that he loves most of all. Especially when she feels like she trusts him enough to let him see.)

2. Her voice. Not just the way she sings, which is pretty breathtaking (literally) in itself, but also the way she talks, the way she sighs, the way she laughs. Those little, tiny things people think nobody pays attention to; those little, tiny things that they don't realize are what make the people around them smile.

(Which brings him to…)

1. Her smile, which, he thinks, is one of the best things about her. He definitely thinks Beca is pretty (the prettiest girl he's ever seen, bar none), but when she smiles – yeah, his heart does this stupid thing where it shoots up to his throat, and he always ends up falling in love with her a little every. single. time. It took him a long while to get there, but he swears he'll never forget the feeling in his chest the day he first got to make Beca Mitchell smile (at him, no less), which is a difficult feat all in itself.

What's that, Benji? Does he miss these things about Beca?

Jesse laughs. That's a stupid question, he thinks, and the answer to it is pretty obvious.

(Of course he does. It may be embarrassing, but the part about her feeling like home? Yeah, that's probably one of the most honest things he's ever said in his life.)

::

Jesse is moping.

When people mope, they do the typical things people who are moping do: lie in bed all afternoon, party with good ol' Jack Daniel's in the middle of the day, maybe sleep with a bunch of other people (or a shit ton of other people, it doesn't really matter to others, for some strange reason Jesse doesn't get) – anything at all to get their mind off this one human being who is unaware that she (or he) is turning their life into shambles.

(Okay, exaggeration, but Jesse is all for dramatics, okay, and these are desperate times.)

Jesse does all these things…well, except for the sleeping with other people thing, because as miserable as he is right now, he really can't imagine being with another woman, other than her. Which is the stupidest thing in the world, because they aren't even dating. Never have. And although this gaping wound she's left in his chest is still fresh, Beca's still his girl.

So instead he just lies in bed all afternoon, in old clothes he hasn't worn in years, watching the stupidest movies known to mankind that he still tolerates in times he needs a distraction.

He mopes like normal people do, except…he's maybe kind of reached a certain tipping point (one that is pathetically annoying and annoyingly pathetic) in such a short span of time. His new roommate Benji is a pretty patient guy, but even he's starting to get a little frustrated.

(Donald and the others, on the other hand, have given up on Jesse two shower-less, odor-ful days ago. One can guess how things have escalated. Quickly and badly.)

::

It was understandable at first, that first day after she left. Almost normal, even.

("She's totally coming back, man," Donald says, popping open a bottle of Bacardi; it emits a hiss that Jesse chooses to focus his attention on instead of the fact that his phone hasn't buzzed to indicate a text or a phone call or even a Skype message or whatever. "It's not permanent. She promised she would be back."

Jesse sighs a little, giving his phone a last glance before stuffing it in his pocket and reaching for the bottle Benji is handing him. "She's probably not."

"Why d'you have to go and be all negative? Geez."

There's a roll of his eyes. It's such a patented Beca thing to do, something he's obviously picked up from her, he's not even really aware of doing it. "I'm not." He's met with pointed looks from everyone at the table. "Really, I'm not!"

"Dude."

At Donald's look, he sighs. "Fine. Maybe I am just a little."

"She's gonna come back. Come on, say it with me, man."

Jesse grimaces from behind the mouth of the bottle but stays silent, chugging down the beer like his life depended on it (and right then, maybe it did). Benji doesn't really want to know; he just watches as Jesse finishes the alcohol off in record time and yells for another.

This…does not look good. At all.)

::

From there, Jesse's lovesick puppy faces started to go along the lines of somewhat cute. (Wait, no, Benji doesn't think that's the right word; it's kind of weird to call a friend – excuse me, a _bro_ – cute.) Sort of…endearing. Maybe a little pathetic, yes. But still endearing. (Is endearingly pathetic considered a compliment?)

("Aww, you _loooove_ her," Stacie grins, on the second day, nudging the pillow that was previously stuck between her boobs against his face, intentionally shielding the television from his view.

"I'm not in love with her!" Jesse grunts from behind the pillow as he tries to swat it away from his (rapidly blushing) face, but Stacie is a giggling, persistent, evil bitch who likes to make his life hell. Every single day. "Stacie," he totally not-whines, totally ignoring her not-lie, "you don't disturb me during _Valentine's Day _– one of the worst movies ever, by the way – but you disturb me during _28 Days Later, _aka one of the greatest zombie movies of all time?"

"At least there are cute guys in _Valentine's Day_," she huffs, shifting so she can lean more comfortably against Donald's chest. But in true Stacie fashion, she doesn't stop mushing the damn pillow against his (reddening) nose. "What's so fun about movies where gross, undead zombies eat everybody? Where there are, like, no cute guys to speak of?"

"'Undead zombies' is redundant," he retorts, voice brisk and short. "And at least it's not a fucking love story." He finally manages to pry the pillow away from her fingers and turns back to the screen.

Well, he also manages to find a swift end to that conversation.)

::

Then it started toeing the line of maybe not endearingly pathetic but just plain…pathetic.

("Dude. You've been cooped up in here for the past three days."

Jesse grunts, eyes stubbornly fixed on his laptop screen where Tallahassee is beating the face off of that fat zombie.

Donald sighs. "Today's Monday, man. Don't you have work?"

Another grunt.

There's a pause, where Jesse pointedly ignores Donald as Donald towers over his position on his bed where he's been comfortably nested in since Friday night.

"That's it," Donald says, when Jesse continues the silent treatment. He reaches over to make a grab for the laptop. "I'm taking this away."

"Wait, no! Columbus is about to–"

"Jesse, you need to – _ow_! Dude, what hell? What are you, three? That fucking hurt!"

"I won't bite you again if you give me – my – damn – laptop – back!"

"I will if you get out of bed and get your frigging _life_ back!"

"Duuuuuude," Jesse not-whines (this is becoming a problem). "Give it to me!"

"Swear on it!"

"Fine! I'll go out with you and Benji tonight if that's gonna make you happy. Bastard."

"Great." Donald releases his death grip on the computer, which Jesse tugs back with a triumphant cry (and he actually even _hugs _it).

He watches Jesse for a second as he sinks back into his bed and places his laptop carefully on the nearby crowded desk, mumbling about betrayals and "supposed to be friends" under his breath. His sheets are unmade and clothes are strewn haphazardly across the littered floor, and Donald sweeps his eyes across the general mess inside the room, feeling his heart sink a little.

Then he gives a tiny sniff, his features contorting into a grimace.

"Dude," he says, grabbing an old Barden sweatshirt from Jesse's desk chair and tossing it over Jesse's head, "for the love of God, take a damn shower.")

::

Then it started edging into…well, Benji hates to say it, but…irritating.

("Alright, you turd burgers, step aside and let Fat Amy work her magic."

Jesse maybe gives an audible gulp, because – well, this is Fat Amy. That's enough explanation.

"Lover boy," Fat Amy addresses him with a hard poke to the shoulder, and Jesse snaps to attention with a wince.

"Yes, ma'am." His bottom lip quivers a little.

"Let's start with some simple exercises."

"Amy, I don't think your Australian voodoo's a really good idea right now–"

"Oh, calm your tits and stop raining on Fat Amy's parade, Chloe." Fat Amy looks him over and rubs her palms together. (Jesse gulps.) "I'm just going to use some hypnosis on this fella…"

"Wait," Donald interrupts, eyes wide. "No no no no. No no no. No hypnosis, Amy."

"What? It's just a little hypnosis trick I learned from when I was wandering around the forests of Veracruz…"

"In Mexico?" Chloe's eyebrows shoot upwards. "What? What on earth were you doing there?"

"Oh, you know." Fat Amy waves a careless hand. "Getting rid of some bad juju after I broke up with this huge dickhead who went off to sing backup for John Meyer."

"Wait," Benji frowns. "Are you talking about Bump–"

"But anyway," Amy interrupts in a loud voice, shooting Benji a look that immediately shuts him up. (Everybody else just looks a bit horrified at this snippet of information.) "Are we a go on this hypnosis thing or not?"

"No," Jesse says immediately. Donald nods vigorously from beside him.

Fat Amy lets out a loud exhale, looking like she's on the verge of launching into a ten-minute debate about "why the hell not?" like the last time she tried to pull the same thing with Chloe…yeah, that didn't end very well.

"Look, you guys," Jesse says, cutting Amy off before she even starts, "this is nothing, okay? You're making a big deal out of nothing. This is just a stupid crush. A highly inappropriate, pathetic crush that will go away soon. Um…okay, uh…remind me of her worst qualities. Donald, go."

"Uh, she can be kind of a sarcastic bitch."

"Well, yeah, but that's just a defense mechanism…"

"And she doesn't really let people in," Benji supplies.

"Well, that's because she has trust issues. Because of her parents, you know?"

"And she's kind of crazy hormonal…" Donald continues.

"Again, defense mechanism. It's all just defense mechanism. Look, you guys know her, you know she's not really like that. She's really witty, and dry-humored, and beautiful, albeit a little scary – I mean, have you _seen _that ear spike? – and talented and…"

Ah, here we go again.

Donald rolls his eyes and turns back to his laptop; Chloe sighs and pops in her earphones; and Benji just sits there, too polite to stop listening to Jesse's long-winded 'Beca's totally not the love of my life and yet she totally is' speech they've heard too many fucking times in the past few weeks.

Fat Amy just sits there with her legs crossed, hands on her knees, as she starts humming some ancient Australian voodoo chant.)

::

Then it turns to irritatingly pathetic…

("I should call her. Right? I mean, just to make sure she's okay and everything, all settled in? I mean, L.A.'s a huge place, she might get – get lost or something. And she's so tiny the…I don't know, the _mobs_ might mistake her for a college kid and kidnap her and – and – I looked this up on Google and there are rumors of an epidemic flying around there right now – like a bad bout of – I don't know, rabies or something–"

"_What_? There's no–"

"So I should call her, right? Just to make sure?"

"Jesse." Benji struggles to grab the phone away from Jesse's grip. "Beca wouldn't appreciate that, believe me. And she's a grown woman. She's fine."

"But–"

"And she does not have rabies!")

::

…until Benji's pretty much close to giving up.

("Jesse," he says, nudging the guy awake, or trying to, at least. "Jesse, it's six-thirty."

"Mmph."

"Jesse," he tries again. "It's Thursday. We're gonna be late for work."

"Tell them I'm sick."

"You've been using that excuse since Monday! I can't even look at Lilly in the eye anymore. She was pretty understanding, but now I swear she's gonna burn both of us alive if you don't go to work again today."

"I don't care." Jesse's voice is muffled against his pillow. "I don't wanna go."

Benji sighs. "Jesse, you could get fired."

"I don't care."

"You told me you spent three months trying to look for a job. Now you have it. Do you seriously want to let it go now?"

"It took me a month to fall in love with Beca and I let _her _go."

"Oh my god."

That's it. Benji's really giving up.)

::

Still, it takes that entire week of Jesse staying inside their apartment – dressed in an old pair of boxers and an old _Lord of the Rings _shirt that was always too big for him, eating popcorn relentlessly and watching bad movies about zombies and the apocalypse, with Benji trying to confiscate his phone to stop him from texting Beca (who's been keeping radio silence) _too _much – for Benji to reach his limits.

He catches Jesse keeping up with the Kardashians when he comes home from work on Friday night, roughly a week after Beca left. Jesse's still wearing that same old shirt, and Benji hears him debating with Stacie over the phone about the merits of having firm nail beds while "Baby, I Love Your Way" blasts through the stereo.

It's then that Benji thinks it's the last straw.

He phones Chloe.

::

"Code red, code red," is the first thing he whispers through the mouthpiece he cups in his hand, so Jesse wouldn't hear (though it's a fat chance; Bob Marley's voice pretty much drowns out the other sounds in the apartment).

"What?" Chloe sighs at the other end of the line. "Already?"

"Can't you _hear_ Bob Marley in the background?"

"Oh, god," Chloe groans. "That_ song_. That's on Jesse's sad songs playlist, track four. Oh my god, Benji. This is bad."

"Please come over. _Please._"

Thank God Chloe knows how to read desperation, not that it was subtly thrown in his tone at all. But still.

::

There's this game, that Benji and Jesse picked up from that John Cusack movie they watched one night while "bonding" (a nicer term for saying "getting drunk together just for kicks"). They name their top five whatevers: top five Marvel films, top five movie adaptations of all time, top five Star Wars characters, top five reasons why Leonardo DiCaprio still hasn't won an Oscar…the works.

They don't know _exactly _why it's fun, but it is.

"Okay," Benji says, slapping a huge tub of ice cream on the coffee table in front of Jesse. "Since you're too lazy to take a shower, here's some ice cream to motivate you. And some Top Five."

Jesse looks dubiously at the tub of Ben & Jerry's. "Ice cream to cheer me up? I don't know man, this is straight out of a chick flick."

Benji gives a careless wave of his hand. "Just go with it."

Jesse sighs, "Fine," and reaches for a spoon; hey, the least he could have right now is some (self-proclaimed) well-deserved Cherry Garcia. "Okay. Top Five. Shoot."

Benji looks way too serious for a minute that Jesse's spoon pauses halfway to his mouth. The ice cream drips to the floor, unnoticed. "Uh…top five things…you like most about Beca?"

"Aw, come on, man." Jesse grimaces as his spoon reaches its target aka his waiting mouth, and he lets the ice cream cool down the warmth growing inside his throat. "Can we not? Anything but that."

But Benji is stubborn. Jesse sometimes forgets how stubborn his friend could get. "Come on," he coaxes. "You already went through four stages of grief."

"Grief? Nobody _died_–"

Benji ignores him as he holds up a hand and starts ticking things off with his fingers. "One, denial…"

"Well, she can't leave New York and stay in L.A. _forever_–"

"…_Two,_" Benji continues, pointedly ignoring him, "anger…"

"Well, you guys are mean…"

"Then there's bargaining…"

"Donald tried to take my laptop away, and you tried to confiscate my phone! That was unwarranted and my actions were completely justifiable!"

"…and then depression. That's four."

Jesse takes a beat too long to answer. "I am _not _depressed," he finally huffs, only half-offended, because really, he may be moping, but he's not suffering from crippling depression or anything. Yet. "And aren't there five stages? What's the fifth?"

Benji looks him in the eye, and Jesse would laugh at his seriousness if his feelings weren't so…jumbled and confusing right now.

"Acceptance."

::

He gives in. He gives his top five.

His heart feels both lighter and heavier than before, once he's done, letting out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding. There's something burning inside his chest, sinking it down with a force he doesn't even try to fight.

Benji says, quietly, "How did that feel?"

He burrows into the cushions, slowly rotating his sticky spoon in the empty ice cream tub sitting on his lap. "I don't know," he says, looking down at his feet. "It just only made me miss her more."

::

Here's the thing about Jesse:

He doesn't hate Beca Mitchell. At _all_.

He _can't _hate Beca, and that right there is the fucking problem.

Not even when she solidified his friendzoned status (and maybe broke his heart a little), not when she told him she's leaving for L.A. (and maybe broke his heart a _lot_).

::

Chloe arrives after an hour.

"What took you so long?" Benji frowns as he lets her in. She sails through the apartment in the way only she can: gracefully, bringing with her a sense of warmth that Jesse craves, because there's this bitter cold that's starting to seep into his bloodstream, settling into his bones.

"Traffic." Chloe shrugs, by way of explanation, then makes a beeline for the couch where Jesse is currently slumped.

"Hey, Chloe." He smiles sheepishly up at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't 'hey' me, Jesse Swanson." She frowns as she looks him up and down, hands perched on thin hips. "God, this _is _code red."

"Code red? What's code red?"

Chloe sighs, then settles beside him, placing her long legs over his lap. As always, even in times of distress, she seems to forget the concept of personal space that her friends (Beca, most especially, after that one incident in the shower that Jesse tries not to think about right now) often have to remind her about.

"You look terrible," she tells him, not unkindly. There's a softness in her voice and in her eyes that makes him calm down.

He settles his hands on her legs and starts massaging gently. "Thanks."

"And you reek."

"I will…attend to that right now."

She grabs his arms to stop him from getting up and moving away. "In a minute," she says. "I wanna hug you first."

And she does, and Jesse melts into her embrace and lets himself relax for the first time in a long while.

::

He takes a shower while Chloe frets around the apartment, ordering takeout, while Benji tidies up the little nest of pillows and blankets Jesse's left inside his room.

The warm water feels good against his skin, washing away some of the weight that rests on his shoulders. He watches them slip away, the metaphorical pain that slides along his skin and disappears down the drain.

::

Jesse trudges into Benji's room, where Chloe's currently lying on her stomach on the bed while Benji spins around on his desk chair. Their laughing stops when he enters.

He rolls his eyes. "Really, guys, don't let me spoil all the fun."

Chloe chooses to ignore this. "Look who's finally decent and smells nice again!"

"Haha."

It begins with Chloe putting a hand on his arm as he settles beside her, their shoulders brushing. "We're really worried about you, Jesse," she says, and Benji nods in agreement.

He loves them both, he really does, and he appreciates what they're trying to do, but there are a million things he'd rather be doing right now (have a _Star Wars _marathon, scale down the fire escape, listen to the _Annie _soundtrack, watch _Mean Girls_) than be involved in this conversation.

He sighs. "I know. I'm sorry; I don't know what happened to me this past week."

"We understand what you're going through," Chloe says softly, "okay? Don't apologize."

"It's just…" He closes his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face, but Chloe takes his hand and threads her fingers through his own. It's a comforting feeling. He's always felt so comfortable around Chloe, like something about her is anchoring him down, keeping him sane. "I don't know. How do I kill a feeling?"

He's asked her this question before, long before things started getting complicated, when he was just this guy fresh out of college, lost in his dreams of a bigger future, trapped in the middle of a crazy city he's not sure how to navigate. A guy who took one look at this woman who lives in the apartment building across from his, the "girl from room 41-B" – at her dark makeup and her assortment of earrings and those blue-grey eyes he finds so painfully pretty – and knew he was a goner.

"I wish I hadn't…fallen in love with her," he continues, not giving Chloe a chance to respond. "You know? Then I wouldn't be in this stupid mess."

"We all make mistakes." Benji looks sympathetic.

"That's the thing." He swallows and bends his head, lowering his voice to a faint mumble. Scratch everything he's said earlier; what he _really_ wants right now is to have a drink. Or maybe another tub of that Ben & Jerry's, because man, do girls have the right idea about this moping thing. "It doesn't feel like a mistake."

::

His top five mistakes, with regards to Beca Mitchell:

Pegging her as a musical snob. That's mistake number one.

Assuming she likes movies. Mistake number two.

Not knowing when (and how) to stay away. Number three.

Thinking she doesn't have a complicated background, and that she's willing to share. Number four.

And lastly:

Thinking she was single and unattached.

That's mistake number five, and the biggest mistake of them all.

::

But really, he doesn't hate Beca. (Far from it.)

Okay, fine. Honesty hour. Whatever, Chloe.

Honestly?

Okay. He's gonna say it:

Maybe he hates her a little for leaving.

* * *

**Quote **from _Joe Gould's Secret _(Joseph Mitchell);** Title **from the Foreigner song of the same name

That John Cusack movie, by the way, is _High Fidelity _(2000)_, _the book version of which (by Nick Hornby) served as inspiration for this fic, along with the movie _(500) Days of Summer__, _and this mix I chanced upon on Tumblr that was really successful in making me sad.

Also, I'll have you know this early on that I'm the worst updater ever, so… I hope to God I'll be motivated enough to finish this one. (Also, bear with me, I'm still trying to get Jesse's voice down...)

Review? :)


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